It Happened One Night
by Elsa007
Summary: Lucy shows up at Garcia Flynn's door one night with a bottle of vodka in her hands.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Okay so I started this after seeing 2x06, and had it MOSTLY finished before seeing 2x07 last night (WHICH RIPPED ME TO SHREDS BY THE WAY). I've got most of Chapter 2 done as well so be sure to follow for a quick update! PLEASE review to let me know what you think!**

* * *

The hinges creaked as the industrial door moved, opening ever so slightly, just enough for Flynn to poke his head out. The apprehension written across his face disappeared the moment he saw it was Lucy who had disturbed his solitude. He would be lying if he said he hadn't worried that one of the other annoyingly peppy team members had come looking for him. With a lecture, perhaps, or a new assignment, he wasn't sure which he dreaded more just now. All he had wanted was to lay down on his overly uncomfortable cot and relax for the first time in days. For the first time, actually, since he and Lucy had shared a few beers, silently, while watching TV together. What an oddly normal experience that had been, in the middle of all of this.

But Lucy... He didn't mind if she disturbed him as much. He had meant what he'd said. Reading that journal, it had felt like he had gotten to know her, like she was a friend, and if he was being honest with himself... Garcia Flynn couldn't say that he didn't have deeper feelings than that for the small fireball, who was currently holding that quoted bottle of vodka beneath her chin, looking up at him, half teasingly, half pleading for him to let her in. Who was he to say no? Besides, a stuff drink might do him some good just about now. He stepped back enough to let her pass him by and smiled as he inhaled that subtle scent of lavender, wafting off her hair as she moved past him. The door closed behind her, and for a moment, Flynn felt a sudden sense of nervousness, not unlike a schoolboy, spending time alone with his first crush. The moment was gone the moment Lucy plopped herself on his for like she belonged there and took a deep swig of the clear liquid without flinching once. _That's my girl._

She held the bottle out to him and gestured for him to join her. Unfortunately he couldn't claim not to since as the rush of cheap booze hit the back of his throat.

"Gah. How do you drink that straight?" She giggled and Flynn had a sudden thought that perhaps she was already drunk.

"Not sure. I can't do it with any other booze. I look a mess when I try to shoot tequila or rum, whiskey especially, but the first time I had vodka... Maybe we're meant to be, vodka and me." Flynn smiled. She had written that down in the journal. It had even gotten stuck in his head, somewhere in 1873 after he'd had reread that entry a few to many times, like getting just one verse of a song stuck in your head, over and over, maybe we're meant to be, vodka and me.

"Perhaps." Flynn took another swig and passed the bottle back.

"God these rooms are depressing." Lucy said, surveying the drab surroundings.

"They're all right."

"They're what?" She asked teasingly. "All right? Compared to what, a hovel?"

"Compared to a lot of the places we stayed in while we escaped."

"Your... your wife? And daughter?"

"No. Lorena and Iris, they came later. Besides, she had a way of making me blind to the imperfections around us." He took the bottle back from Lucy. "Not unlike you, actually."

"Is that a compliment, Garcia Flynn."

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"To be compared to the wife you would defy the laws of time for, yeah. A bit."

"I don't mean... This isn't me flirting with you, Lucy." He said, flushing slightly. "Just... a compliment. You don't see yourself that way, and I thought it high time someone pointed it out to you." The silence that filled the air wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable, more of a companionable, mutual... thing. Lucy shook her head. Garcia Flynn was a confusing man. And as much as she tried to deny it, there might have been something to his claims that he knew her better than she knew herself. It alarmed her sometimes, the way he reacted to her comments or actions, like he had been expecting them, like they'd known each other for forever.

"So the hovels." Lucy said, retreating to a safe topic of discussion. "What hell holes made this dump look like a palace? I mean we all probably have gotten tetanus from this ancient, rusting pile of sheet metal."

"It's a bunker made of steel that is several inches thick. It could survive a nuclear holocaust, you can hardly call it sheet metal."

"I can call it whatever I like when the rust and grime that has attached itself over the years is getting on all my cool vintage clothes that are both authentic and yet not in any way disintegrated by time thanks to Mason's fancy... car... thing."

"Are you drunk?" Flynn asked with a smile. "How much of this did you drink before you came in here?"

"None! I'm not drunk." Lucy said, emphasizing her point by taking another drink.

"You just called a time machine a 'fancy car thing'."

"You knew what I meant!" Flynn chuckled a bit to himself but nodded.

"Some... I worked with a team, when I was a spy for the NSA. We were betrayed. One of them turned on the rest of us, and we were caught by the men we were attempting to infiltrate. We watched as our brother in arms walked away with a bag of cash as we were locked up in a dungeon that makes this look place look like... well maybe not a palace, but a reasonably priced hotel." Lucy laughed, and passed him the bottle. "Of course then we also watched as he was shot in the back before he made it out the door. There was only one thing they hated more than a spy. A traitor. And besides. It had been a lot of money."

"But you escaped." He nodded.

"It took weeks. And even longer to get back to a place where we could contact our handlers. We stayed in... abandoned homes, chicken coops, an actual hole in the ground once."

"I have so many questions right now." Lucy said with a grin.

"It's not nearly so interesting as it sounds."

"I highly doubt that. I mean come on. Did you dig the hole? Did you just find a hole? How big was the hole? How many of you had to fit in it? Was it like a cave?" She gasped dramatically. "Did you have to cuddle?"

"Okay, Nellie Bly,"

"See, I know you meant that as an admonishment, but I take Nellie Bly as a compliment." She said proudly. Flynn smirked a bit more. Of course she had. That was his entire purpose in saying it in the first place.

"So are we going to talk about it?"

"About the hole you lived in?"

"Slept in. For one night, and no. I mean the reason you showed up at my door with this horrible, horrible vodka."

"Agent Christopher wouldn't buy the good stuff when I asked."

"We can pick up something better on our next trip. See if taking it through a time machine has the same effect as letting it sit in a nice cellar. It'll be like a scientific experiment." Lucy laughed.

"Deal."

"You keep trying to change the subject. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. You don't have to avoid it in the hopes that I'll forget. If you say you don't want to discuss it, I'll drop it." Lucy was silent, her lips pursed, as she stared off at the far wall. "If you do want to talk about it, however," Flynn dropped off for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I'm here for you, Lucy."

"Why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why are you here for me? You were so intent on killing us all before, but if you knew we were all going to be friends-"

"I don't know about friends. I get the feeling that the wonder twins in the other room would kill me as soon as work with me if they got the chance."

"And me? Are we friends?" Flynn looked down at the bottle in his hand, peeling at the label.

"I like to think we will be."

"And what about future Lucy? What does she think?"

"She's not quite that explicit, to be honest. Likes to leave me guessing sometimes."

"On purpose? Or because she doesn't know you'll be reading it one day?"

"She knows. But you already knew that. First entry. It's addressed to me."

"My mom handed me the empty journal only a few days after you showed me the finished one."

"It's not finished." Flynn said with a shrug.

"Well you've got it, so it's not as if I'm going to be writing any more." Flynn shrugged again.

"What does that mean? That shrug?"

"You told me you wanted it back one day, when you handed it to me. You said I should keep it safe for you, because you planned on finishing that final entry."

"What's the entry?"

"Private." He said immediately. "It's... it's private."

"It's _my_ journal." She said indignantly.

"It's... not yet. If I tell you your thoughts now, you'll never know if you really had them or if it's just something that got put in your head. I want you to come to it on your own."

"So you're just going to leave me in the dark, then?"

"You like the dark. Because it's peaceful, and calm."

"Oh yeah, I wrote that a few weeks ago." His eyebrows rose.

"You did? So then..."

"So then what?"

"So then you've already written about Salem?"

"Of course, that happened weeks ago!"

"You might have written it after the fact."

"Hang on, if you read all about our adventures, don't you know where we're going next? Can't we... prepare?"

"You don't write about all of them. And they're out of order. There are references of things that haven't happened yet in the entry about San Antonio. And... you don't write it for a while. There are other things you write before then. And... it changes sometimes. When I take it with me on the mothership, it doesn't, even when it's wrong. Something will happen, and change the past, or the future, or... our reality, I guess, where the past and the future are far more ambiguous, and what you've written isn't accurate. Once I left it behind on mistake and when I got back to it, one of my favorite entries... it was gone." He looked sad then. "Didn't happen anymore, I guess. Or maybe you just didn't write about it."

"So this journal..."

"It isn't set in stone. There's an entry early on about a trip to Paris, 1832."

"July Revolution?" He nodded.

"I was supposed to have led you there but... It would have been a hit to Rittenhouse. A hard hit, to have taken them out there. But... the cost was too high. So I... I didn't go. And as such, you lot didn't follow me, and... well it was worth it so far, but a lot of things are different in the journal now. All for the better."

"What cost?"

"A life."

"Whose? You never cared about messing with history before, why would you-"

"Not history. Wyatt." Lucy gasped.

"Wyatt would have..."

"Yes. And it would have hurt you. To a point that made you vulnerable to Rittenhouse. You didn't want any of it, but you didn't have someone to keep you strong after the loss, and Rufus was equally a mess so you couldn't lean on him. His death, and how you viewed it..." Flynn kept trailing off, as if he wasnt entirely sure what exactly he could say, or perhaps _should_ say. "I couldn't do that to you. So I... I let it go, I guess."

"To... to protect Wyatt?"

"To protect you. From Rittenhouse. You didn't deserve what they did to you in that reality. So I just... I left the journal in my room and went to track down Emma instead. Fat lot of good that did all of us. Damn sleeper agent." He took a deep swig.

"It's not your fault, Flynn." Lucy told him earnestly, reaching out to put her hand on his arm comfortingly. "You're just one person, with a sometimes inaccurate journal. You can't put the weight of the world on yourself."

"Says the girl who does exactly that every time Rittenhouse does... literally anything."

"It's different, Flynn. It's my family, doing this. Because I couldn't stop them. Because I killed a soldier and let them save my great grandfather."

"It wasn't your fault either, Lucy. You were doing the best you could in the circumstances. None of this is your fault, and you're the only one who blames yourself."

"That's because Rufus and Jiya are too nice to blame anyone else, and Wyatt feels so guilty about his wife coming back to think meanly of me even when it's well deserved. And Agent Christopher, and Mason... they don't really get what it's like, in the field, and their memory is reset when we change something, which makes it hard for them to pin any of us or our actions down. Maybe Mason will start to get it, but... They're too soft on us all. No one blames anyone else, even when theatres blame to be had."

"Rufus and Jiya are perfectly capable of blaming other people, believe you me." Flynn interjected dryly. "Wyatt's inability to blame you has less to do with his wife's reappearance and more to do with the fact that you aren't to blame, Lucy. You are not your family. Their choices are not yours." He could tell she wasn't giving any credence to his words so he took her hands in his, and held her gaze, speaking intently. "Remember when we went back and found that pilot boy, and I wanted to kill him and you wouldn't let me. And you said that just because his father was Rittenhouse didn't make the son evil, and that the choices other's had forced on him weren't his fault, and you gave him a second chance. Because despite his family, despite actual proof staring you in the face that he was going to do terrible, terrible things, you still believed in him, and you still believed that despite the awful things, he was good, and that none of it was his fault. Lucy I am staring at overwhelming evidence that above all else, _you are good. You are good Lucy Preston._ And I won't let anyone, not even you, take that away from you. You only see the mistakes, and failures, you don't see how much you've done in the face of all impossibility. You are the hero the world needed to champion this fight against an unseen monster, and its a fight that is hundreds of times harder for you than the rest of us because that is your family, Lucy. And that's not something to be ashamed of, it is something that shows how strong your convictions are, how strong _you_ are. Stop blaming yourself. Not because no one else blames you, but because you aren't to blame."

There were tears in Lucy's eyes as Flynn spoke and the sudden rush of emotion in them both made the air a bit uneasy between them.

"That was... quite the rousing speech. Though you make a good point about Rufus and Jiya." Lucy said, sniffing back her tears and forcing a smile. "They really don't like you."

"I know I do. And honestly, I think you underestimate Agent Christopher. Mason... I'll give you that one, actually. But he's so drunk half the time these days it's likely not advisable to use him as your compass needle."

"Just because he's drunk? We're drunk and I think we're still brilliant."

"We are brilliant. Obviously. Which is why you should listen to me when I say stop blaming yourself, because quite honestly, it's making you sound less brilliant. And God knows that'll make for some dull reading later this week." Lucy laughed at that, and Flynn was far too proud of being the cause of her laughter.

"Do I always write about the trips? Or-"

"You write about all kinds of things. You mom. Your sister. The trips. Your team. Other... stuff."

"What other stuff?"

"Just... other stuff."

"Yes, thank you for the clarification."

"It's... private."

"God I can't wait til I write more so I know what has you so... meh."

"Meh. Very eloquent."

"Says the 'other stuff' guy."

"Other stuff is better than, _meh."_ On the last word, Flynn had screwed up his face, and done a horrible American accent, to emphasize his point, that set Lucy into a gale of laughter. Watching her doubled over in giggles, Flynn couldn't help but join in, the pair of them laughing far more than the situation called for.

* * *

"I can! I swear!"

"You're drunk."

"And I can still do it!"

"There's no way."

"I'll prove it to you!"

"You're going to do it, _now_?!"

"You don't believe I can!"

"And because someone doesn't think you can, you're going to go out of your way to what, prove them wrong? Actually no. That makes a lot of sense, and explains a great deal about you as a person. Let's go then." The pair of them snuck out into the hallway, Flynn right on Lucy's heels as they attempted to quietly sneak into the kitchen. Tipsy as they were, Flynn and Lucy were struggling with the 'quiet' aspect of their mission. They were halfway trough the living room when Lucy suddenly halted, causing Flynn to run straight into her. They gripped at each other to keep from falling, and dissolved into silent laughter. Once they had settled a bit, Lucy pointed to the couch, where Rufus curled up, sleeping fitfully. She put her finger to her lips and shushed Flynn, much to his amusement. They tiptoed the rest of the way, Flynn's hand still resting on Lucy's hips where they had fallen halfway through tripping over her. They made it without waking Rufus and Flynn closed the thick door behind them.

"Okay then. Show me. Fill up an upside down wine glass." Lucy grinned and went to the counter where Agent Christopher had left an open bottle of red earlier that evening. she popped it open and grabbed everything else she needed.

"You'll drink it with me, when I prove you wrong."

"Not off the floor I won't." Flynn rebutted. I won't drink a thing that's been on the floor of this, hovel, did you call it?"

"Oh ye of little faith. _When_ I fill up an upside down wine glass, you will drink it with me, and _then..._ " Lucy trailed off, her eyes narrowed, trying to think of a punishment fitting of his disbelief in her. "You'll owe me a dare."

"What?"

"To be cashed in when I wish. I get to dare you and you have to do it."

"And when you spill this wine all over the floor, or give up because even you are incapable of defying basic physics, then you'll owe me a dare."

"Deal." Lucy pulled a plate out of the cupboard and grabbed a small candle from the drawer beside the fridge. Christopher had said they were in case they lost power but, honestly, if they had lost power, Rufus and Jiya and Mason would have figured out a way to produce power with... a bike or something, Lucy figured. Or whatever we had around. This was more important than that possibility. She lit the candle and dripped a bit of wax on the plate, before securing the candle atop the melted wax, in essence, pasting it to the plastic plate. She poured the wine on the plate around the candle and carefully set the glass, upside down, atop the candle. Flynn looked at her smugly as Lucy stepped back, letting science do it's thing. The look dropped ever so slightly as the wine started to slide into the glass. As Flynn's grin fell, Lucy's grew. Soon enough, all the wine was in the glass, the plate dry. She flipped the glass, removing the plate, candle still lit and stuck to the plastic. Mockingly, Lucy blew the candle out and smirked at him.

"Huh."

"You were saying?"

"Well that's... you..." Flynn sighed. "Fine. Defy gravity. Whatever. God knows you can do everything else." Lucy passed the glass to Flynn before pouring one of her own, properly this time.

"To me being able to do everything." She proposed the toast with a grin. Flynn smiled and touched his glass to hers before taking a sip. He frowned.

"God, that's horrible."

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "It really is bad wine, isn't it?" They dissolved into a fit of laughter again. Lucy looked up at the tall Croatian man holding her steady.

"What?" He asked at her decided gaze.

"I don't think I've ever laughed this much in one night."

"Of course you have."

"No. I don't think I have." She smiled at him softly then. "Thanks, Flynn. I needed this. Tonight's been fun."

"Garcia."

"Sorry?"

"You can call me Garcia if you like. Not that I mind Flynn. Sometimes when you write you call me Garcia. Not when you're irate, then it's Flynn, or bastard, or _him_ , written with a decided slant."

"I've never called you a bastard!"

"You will. More than once." Much to Lucy's surprise, he grinned at that. As if it were an inside joke. And very suddenly she wished she could share in the joke. She wanted to get to know him better, to be... as close as he thought they were.

"Forget future Lucy. I've decided for us."

"Decided what?"

"We're friends. You and me, Flynn, we're friends."

"Just like that?"

"I'm very intransigent. Once I make up my mind, that's about all there is to it, so don't try to convince me to change my mind."

"Leave it to plastered Lucy to use a word like intransigent."

"I like words."

"So do I. But I wouldn't call you intransigent."

"Oh?"

"No. Bullheaded maybe..."

" _Bull_ headed. Yes that's much better!"

"Adamant, then."

"Adamant, huh?"

"Determined."

"That's better."

"Opinionated."

"I don't hate that."

"Pertinacious." Lucy smiled up at him, her eyes grinning as much as she was.

"Pertinacious. That's..." She exhaled. "Actually that's kind of sexy."

"Yes. Yes it is." And then his lips were on hers. Or was it the other way around? Lucy didn't know, all she could think about was how sweet his lips tasted, and the way her body fit comfortably against his warmth. _God_ was he warm. And... and soft. But firm. He was solid. Like an anchor in the storm. Steady. Solid.

"Garcia." She murmured, trying his first name out on her tongue. She didn't hate it. Flynn... it suited him. But there was something both exotic and familiar about Garcia that fit this moment exactly. "Garcia." She murmured again, her hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him tightly to her as they kissed. He moaned into her lips, his arms reaching around her, wrapping her small frame up in his embrace.

"Lucy." Her name was muffled by their kiss but the sound of it shot a sort of electricity across her skin. She leaned into him, relishing in the friction between them. If that wasn't a metaphor for their relationship, she didn't know what was. His hands ran up and down her sides, lighting her skin on fire. With every caress. With every touch. She pulled at his tee shirt, trying to life it over his head. He stepped back a bit, clenching his jaw and wrapping his fingers in the fabric of her flannel. "Lucy." He repeated her name through clenched teeth.

" _What?"_ She whispered back, her voice rasping with a need she couldn't explain.

"I... We shouldn't."

"Why not? Does future Lucy not write about us?" He didn't answer her, his eyes pressed as tightly shut as his jaw. "Huh. So she does write about us?"

"Not at first. Not in the first journal. There were... hints, maybe. Messages that could mean different things. Maybe... it wasn't explicit."

"And then?"

"And then... Lucy this isn't where, _when_ we... the first time..."

"Tell me."

"I'm not supposed to tell you too much."

"Says who?"

"You."

"Well right now, me is saying to take off your damn shirt, and come to bed with me." He groaned and rested his head against hers.

"Why do you have to be so..."

"Persuasive?"

"Kissable." He growled, melting into her once more, crashing his lips urgently against hers. She pulled herself into him, and she found herself being walked backwards until she was pressed tightly between his body and the cold metal of the refrigerator. She moaned against his lips, and once again, found herself reaching for someone who had stepped away, fists clenched with a grimace on his face.

"What now?" Lucy whined. She didn't know why it felt so desperate to have Flynn here and now, she just knew that she was desperate. And that she needed him. Here. Now.

"I... I don't want to loose..." He sputtered before Luxy cut him off.

"Garcia Flynn. I will make a deal with you. If you fuck me senseless right here and now, we can take a picture of those pages, leave them in the lifeboat, and I'll reenact them with you when we get to wherever and whenever it's supposed to happen." Having watched his eyes carefully which she spoke, Lucy was quite certain that it was less her promise to him, and more her use of the word fuck.

"Not here." He finally said. She groaned.

"Flynn."

"I said not here." He said, reaching for her. With a sudden flourish that left Lucy breathless, he swept her up, and held her tightly against his chest, guiding her legs around his hips before carrying her out of the kitchen. They quietly passed Rufus where he tossed anxiously on the couch. Flynn's arms didn't waver or flinch as he carried her down the hall and into his room, nor did his eyes leave hers, staring into her very soul, or so she felt as he walked. The heat inside her was only building and she couldn't help but feel anxious herself, waiting for him, wanting him. Desperately.

Once they had entered the room, he pushed the door shut with his foot, and walked purposefully to his cot.

Flynn bit his tongue to keep from ruining the moment by lamenting the situation, telling her she deserved more, a real bed, for one, and a far more romantic lead up but he knew it was too much too fast. She had just gotten around to deciding they were friends, and deciding she wanted him. Her emotions weren't as involved yet, and if he showed her how engaged his own were he would scare her off far too much. His mind flashed to the ring he had stashed in the mothership, after he and Lucy had gone (would go?) to the meet Michelangelo and wondered if it was still there, or if Emma or someone else in Rittenhouse had discovered it and removed it. But he shouldn't think on that now. Right now, Lucy was in his arms, wanting him, and God did he want her. It wasn't his first time with her, but it would be her first time with him. As confusing as that thought was, he was pleased to know that it gave him a leg up. He knew what made her squirm, what made her cry out that delicious noise he loved so much, and he knew what made her... well.

It wasn't really cheating. After all, she had done the same to him and gloated afterwards the first time he had... he smirked. It was his turn now.

He set her down on the cot and stripped his shirt off, before climbing atop her, covering her body with his. His lips sought out the spot on her neck that made her squirm, and laved his tongue over it, before sucking and nipping at it deeply. He relished in that familiar groan as she arched her back, pressing her body against his. Her hands dug into his back and it was all he could do not to collapse on top of her.

"Garcia," She moaned out. "God, yes!" Her hips slotted themselves against his and she shuddered, feeling his arousal pressed against her heat.

"Ti si lijepa." He murmured against her neck as his hips thrust against her. "Želim te." Lucy's fingers grasped for her buttons, and made a rushed effort to get her shirt off. Flynn smirked. She always had liked when he'd spoken Croatian to her. Always _would_ like... oh God he had to get out of his head before he was distracted by the proper _grammar_ from this beautiful woman on her back below him. And _damn it all to hell_ was she beautiful. He helped her rid herself of her clothing, her shirt flung across the room, her jeans following quickly in their wake. He inhaled a little too sharply as he looked down at her, her breasts swelling out of the soft cups of her brassier, the way the thin scar on her hip drew the eye down her side right to where it disappeared beneath her dark colored panties. "Nebo mi pomaže." He muttered to himself.

"Don't stop." She whispered to him.

"Nikada, draga moja." He replied thickly as Lucy pulled at the waistline of his pants. Her hand reached in and Flynn saw white as she wrapped her fingers around him.

Their lips plunged together and they kissed like the world was on fire around them, all the while squirming and tossing about, trying to move their bodies, limbs still slightly drunk on the vodka, wine, and emotions, into position. One of his hands reached down between them, and he pressed his thumb against her slit. Her whole body jolted forward and a keening cry rang out, echoing around the room. Lucy pushed back against his fingers and Flynn felt her wetness dripping onto his fingertips. He explored her gently, relishing in her keening noises. _God_ he loved making her scream. And moan. Any noises she made at all, actually, drove him to the brink of madness. The thought of being overheard occurred to him for one worrying moment... until Lucy thrust forward, her lips swallowing his fingers just as her lips found his and distracted him thoroughly.

"Lucy." Flynn groaned out her name softly, very other word eluding him just then.

"I need you inside me, Garcia." She whispered in his ear, the want reverberating around the syllables, driving him mad.

"Not yet," he returned in his clipped tone, shifting his body down, lower, lower. Flynn's face caressed the swell of her stomach, and he inhaled, getting drunk on her. He nipped her skin and relished in her slight hiss and the exhale of pleasure which followed. Flynn's stubble grazed her skin as he pressed his face into her.

"God, yes!" She cried out as his fingers gripped into her thighs. He wasn't going to waste anymore time. With a quick tug, her black cotton panties were around her ankles and his face was positioned exactly where he liked it best. Within moments, her words had dissolved into sounds that were far less oratorical as Flynn's tongue dove into Lucy. She shivered against him and moaned out as he lapped at that familiar and heady taste.

"Draga moja." He muttered against her lips, pulling her legs over his shoulders.

"Please!" Lucy begged, her hands clutching at the thin sheets beneath her. Garcia wasn't one to disappoint. Within minutes she was falling apart beneath him. Flynn licked her off his lips and picked his head up, grinning at her panting form.

"Holy shit." She breathed out, panting. Her lungs were on fire. The good kind of fire. "That was... holy shit."

"Was? My darling, I'm not even close to getting started, let alone being done."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So sorry! I thought I posted this ages ago! So I wrote most of this around the time I wrote the first chapter and it's kind of crazy that I picked a Reagan thing and then the next episode I saw they had picked a Reagan thing too! How crazy! Anyway - please review! Working on chapter 3 now!**

* * *

"How in the hell..." Lucy trailed off, as she rolled a bit onto her back. "Wha..."

Flynn wrapped an arm around her and pulled her flush against him. "Still drunk, huh?"

"Yes. But not from the booze."

"What?"

"On you. You fucked the drunk out of me, but I'm still all tipsy on you." Flynn closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, understanding the sentiment exactly.

"Happy to be of service." They lay together in companionable silence, breathing heavily for nearly 15 minutes before Lucy spoke again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why are you so intent to make me feel better?" Flynn smirked.

"You mean when I-"

"No!" Lucy laughed. " I mean... the monologue. You insisting it's not my fault. Why..." she sighed. "Why?"

"Because it's true."

"But even if it is, why we're you so intent on telling me that. I mean our time travel gang is a lot of things, but emotionally stable is not really one of them." Flynn thought carefully for a few moments before responding, all the while his thumb tracing circles on Lucy's shoulder.

"I thought you needed to hear it."

"That's it?"

"Its no secret that I care for you Lucy. While you and I are not as close as I am with a future version with you, you don't deserve to be... alone. Without your friends. And as your friend, I thought you needed to hear it."

Lucy didn't respond, and for a moment, Flynn was worried he had said the wrong thing. But then he felt her leg swinging over his hips, and his breath had caught in his throat at the sight of her settling in astride him, her lower lip bitten between her teeth.

"Lucy." Flynn whispered as her hands pressed against his chest, running up and down his torso. She traced the muscle lines across his abdomen and rocked her hips against his. She reached between them and gripped him softly, biting her lip triumphantly as he groaned at her touch. She positioned him at her entrance and plunged down. The sound that escaped her lips was almost inhuman. Being filled by Flynn was a feeling like no other. He let her set the pace, gripping her hips and looking up into her eyes, his own lit with a fire that made her shiver. She rocked slowly, languidly, provoking long, emphatic cries of passion between the two of them. For the third (Okay, who was kidding who, here? Fifth) time that night, Lucy felt herself fall apart around Garcia Flynn.

* * *

Lucy fussed with the blanket that was wrapped around their feet. "I should go. Get back to the room."

"Stay."

"What?" She asked, rummaging around on the floor for her clothing.

"We'll be getting up again in only a couple of hours, and my cot is all warm now. You may as well stay here."

"I... I don't..." She frowned, jeans and shirt in one hand, bra in the other, her eyes still scanning the room.

"Lucy. Stop thinking so hard about what everything means, and the significance and just..." Flynn's face scrunched up a bit then as he struggled to find the right words. "You hate getting into cold beds. It'll take you forever to fall asleep and you need to be up soon. Just stay. And go to sleep. Without over thinking everything. I promise I won't read into it. Besides, you can't find your underwear, how on earth are you going to leave now?" Lucy giggled quietly.

"You make some good points." She dropped her clothing on the floor, slowly climbing back onto the cot.

"I know I do." He pulled her tighter into his embrace, remembering with great joy, the last time he had slept with her in his arms like this. Pleased that she had stopped trying to pull away, he covered them with his blanket and arranged his arms comfortably so that she could nestle her head into his cheat like she liked. And with that, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

* * *

Rufus and Wyatt nearly ran into each other outside of the bathroom for the second morning in a row.

"We gotta stop meeting like this." Wyatt said with a grin.

"Speaking of things that have gotta stop," Rufus returned as he pushed on Wyatt's arm. "What did I say about us not wanting to listen to you two all night?" Wyatt frowned.

"That wasn't us. I was... I was about to make fun of you and Jiya, after you went out of your way to tell me to keep it down... wait. That wasn't you?" The soldiers brow was furrowed now.

"Nope. I'm still on the couch!" Rufus returned with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"I though Agent Christopher said she wasn't going to bring her wife down here." Wyatt asked, frowning slightly after the lecture he'd received at doing the same with his wife. Rufus's eyes widened.

"Oh God, no. Tell me it wasn't her. That is not an image I want seered into my-"

The creaking of an old metal door interrupted them as Garcia Flynn's unit slowly pushed open. The men stopped speaking, both preparing a rather austere glare to direct at Flynn as he stepped out. But the person who stepped out was decidedly shorter than where they had directed their gaze. Wyatt's stomach dropped as he recognized the mop of curly hair and the gentle biting of a softly pink lip, free from makeup at such an early hour. But it didn't make any sense. Lucy was never up this early. She liked to sleep in lately unless they absolutely couldn't avoid it, and she was never that bright eyed and awake looking so early in the morning. She usually looked like... not that. Actually she _had_ looked an awful lot like that after the two of them had woken up in each other's arms in... Wyatt shook his head. It would do him no good fantasizing about a timeline he was neither in, nor wished for, knowing it would mean a world without Jess.

"Lucy, you forgot-" Flynn appeared behind her, his hand outstretched, holding a small handful of black fabric. He spotted Wyatt and Rufus before Lucy had and he had the good sense to appear embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered to her, avoiding Wyatt and Rufus's gaze. Lucy snatched the fabric from his hand and muttered a quiet thanks. She glanced nervously at her traveling companions, her expression decidedly embarrassed, but oddly enough, not ashamed.

"Morning," she managed to acknowledge them before turning her gaze back to Flynn. She smiled softly at him and he returned the gesture. It wasn't his usual smirk, Wyatt noticed, but a genuine, bashful smile. Wyatt felt his fingers form a fist and it as all he could do to stay nailed down to the spot on the floor and not smash Flynn against the wall and pummel his face until it was unrecognizable and unable to smile at her like that.

"Thanks." Lucy said. "You were right."

"About which part? I do sort of have a cheat sheet." Lucy smirked up at him.

"I'll be sure to leave a few notes in the margins then." He blushed. Garcia Flynn blushed. "But I meant... your little monologue. It... you were right. I did need to hear that. Thank you."

"Anytime Lucy."

"I might just take you up on that." It was Flynn's turn to smirk."

"The speech, Garcia. The rousing speech."

"Rousing, huh?" He was full on grinning now and Wyatt's fingernails had sliced into his palm.

"Shut up." Lucy said, her own grin matching Flynn's as she pushed his arm playfully.

" _Meh._ " He articulated horribly. Lucy snorted in laughter before turning around and walking away, glancing back once, to grin at the proud look on Flynn's face. She turned the corner but Flynn didn't look away immediately. His were fixed on the spot she had last been, his smile a bit hopeful, a bit... dopey? Perhaps? Yes that was the word for it. Rufus cleared his throat, hoping more to jolt Wyatt out of the murderous rage very evident on his face, than anything to do with Flynn. Unfortunately, it hadn't had the intended effect on Wyatt, though Flynn did instantly look towards them, his face now set in it's usual serious expression.

"Morning." He said gruffly, closing the door firmly behind him as he stepped back into his room.

"I take it back. Please God, go back in time and make it Agent Christopher. This is so, _so_ much worse." Rufus breathed out shivering in disgust. "Just... ugh. No." He turned to say something else to Wyatt but the bathroom door was already slamming in his face, the sound of a lock clicking in place loud against the silence of the bunker. "Every morning, man. Every morning. I just need to pee." He said, more to himself than anyone else. He turned around but before he could get more than two steps away, there was a horrible noise, like metal being forced into an uncomfortable position, and it was the sort of sound that gave Rufus chills.

"Jesus!" Agent Christopher appeared around the corner. "What in the hell was that?" Rufus glanced at the bathroom Wyatt had disappeared into.

"Wyatt saw Lucy leaving Flynn's room this morning." He summarized. Christopher's eyebrows raised as she looked at the door Rufus had gestured too.

"Well in that case I'm surprised that there isn't a lot more blood here. Unless you mean to tell me that was Flynn's head being slammed into the wall." The door opened and Wyatt appeared, cradling his hand.

"Need a splint." He said briefly. "I slipped and fell. Think my hand is broken."

"You slipped and fell. That's the story you're going with?" Rufus said as Wyatt walked away.

"Shut up, Rufus." Wyatt growled. Stamping his feet as he walked, it didn't take long for others to hear the noise and come check on the commotion.

"What's going on?" Mason asked as he stepped into the hallway.

"Wyatt?" Jess came out of their room, dressed only in Wyatt's shirt. "What was that noise?"

"Slipped. Fell." He said gruffly.

"Oh my God! Babe! Your hand!"

"I'm fine."

"Wyatt! It looks broken! What did you-"

"I said I'm fine!" He barked, stomping into the kitchen, kicking the door shut behind him. After an awkward silence, Jess turned to Rufus and shook her head.

"What the hell happened? Did..." She trailed off with a shrug.

"He slipped. Fell in the bathroom. Floor must have been wet. And you know how he gets when he's in pain like that. Give him a minute to throw back some Advil, he'll be a lot nicer to us all." Jess looked unconvinced but didn't push it and retreated back into the room she and Wyatt shared. Denise Christopher looked at Rufus with one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. Sure. Some Advil. That'll help."

* * *

"Guys?"Jiya called out. "Mothership launch!"

"Where?" Mason asked.

"June 12th, 1987, in-"

"Berlin." Lucy and Flynn finished for Jiya simultaneously.

"What's-"

"Reagan." Flynn said, turning and making his way towards the lifeboat.

"Tear down this wall speech. That..." Lucy sighed. "That, _really_ needs to happen, okay? Really, really needs to happen."

"Okay." Wyatt said. "Let's go." The crew rushed around prepping for the trip, climbing into their usual spots.

"Where do you think you're going?" Wyatt all but snarled at Flynn.

"Um... Berlin? 1987?"

"No. _I'm_ going to Berlin's 1987. You're staying here."

"No. I most certainly am not."

"Really, Wyatt?" Lucy murmured to the soldier. "You're doing this now?"

"Stay out if this, it has nothing to do with you. I'm going. So we don't need him."

"The Lifeboat takes four now, you could use the backup." Agent Christopher protested.

"What I could use is not having to protect my team from its own players while we're on the ground. You want four? Fine. Mason. Let's go."

"That's a hard pass from me."

"Honestly, Wyatt, if we're playing musical chairs here, if like to point out that your hand is broken, rendering you a lot less efficient. If only one of us goes, it really should be me."

"You're both going, end of discussion." Christopher said with finality, before Wyatt could voice the pure fury that was emanating off of him.

"I promise to be on my best behavior." The creation man said with a smirk. "Now be a good boy and wave goodbye to your wife." The tension in the pod as Rufus readied the lifeboat for takeoff was more than palpable, it was audible. Wyatt's glare was one thing, but he was breathing so heavily it sounded like there was a large humidifier in the small space. Flynn smirked at Wyatt, unfazed, and began to ruminate on the perfect taunt.

"Budi čedan." Lucy's voice piped up before Flynn's could and all three of her teammates turned to stare at her.

"Since when do you speak... that?" Rufus asked.

"Yeah. Since when." When Wyatt spoke it was less of question and more of an... accusation? She wasn't sure. But this wasn't about Wyatt.

"Like 5 words. I looked 'em up on my phone when Agent Christopher confirmed that the two of you were going to be on this mission together. Figured I'd need them. It's been 30 seconds, and I've already had to use them." Rufus fired up the lifeboat and Lucy prepped for that familiar tug as they hopped.

"Uh huh... and..." Flynn bit his lip. "What exactly where you and google translate trying to tell me?" Lucy paused and looked up at Flynn and the much taller man couldn't contain his grin, though whether or not it was at her horrible translation or at her sudden awkwardness was really anyone's guess.

"Um... I just..." He raised his eyebrows at her, prompting her to go on. "Be nice?" He laughed as Rufus released their seat belt latches. "Is that not..."

"Close enough, draga moja, close enough."

"What did I say?"

"I'll..." Flynn smirked as he held out his hand to help her out of the seat. "I'll tell you later."

"Flynn-" Wyatt began with a snarl.

"So we're looking for a sleeper agent, but we should also have some sort of security detail on Reagan." Lucy cut him off, refocusing them all back in the mission. "Wyatt, how do you want to run this play?" Lucy thanked God that Garcia didn't raise a machismo fuss over it, and allowed Wyatt to control this at least.

"Lucy and I will find Reagan. Flynn, you put your Rittenhouse knowledge to the test. Find the sleeper. So what you so best. Murder him."

"Really, Wyatt?" Lucy muttered.

"You're acting like he hasn't killed people Lucy." Lucy's face hardened and her eyes blazes with fire.

"Luce, it's fine. Really." Flynn muttered.

"Fine. Yeah. Fine. No I mean he's right, isn't he?" Her voice was raising in pitch and for the first time she sounded almost... hysterical. "The murderers really should be kept away from the other people. Right?" She reached down and gripped Flynn's hand tightly in hers and he could feel how violently she was shaking.

"So we'll go then. You and me. We'll find the sleeper and we'll kill him. Being murderers and all."

"Lucy I didn't mean-"

"No Wyatt. You didn't think." She hissed back at him. "Take Rufus. If you can stomach the fact that he's killed too. If not, _he's_ welcome with us. You are not."

"Lucy, come on."

"Fuck off Wyatt." She shook her head. "Come on, Garcia. Let's go steal some clothes." And with that she disappeared into the crowd, dragging the tall Croation man behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Okay I rewrote this chapter to help my next chapters actually work. PLEASE STILL SEND ME PROMPTS AND STUFF YOU WANT TO SEE!**

 **Side note: The German is a mix of what I know from hearing my grandparents speak a LONG time ago and google translate. Sorry for the plentiful mistakes. Translations are at the bottom! Also the hotel thing? I made that up. Creative license, shall we say? Thanks for letting me get away with it:) xoxo - E**

* * *

"Lucy. Slow down." Flynn tugged on her arm.

"I can't believe the nerve of him." She fumed. "To insinuate that you're somehow less than us just because-"

"Because you lot have been fighting against me for a long time now, and because that's in his head. Not to mention, the whole, I stole his girl, thing."

"You didn't steal me, I came to you willingly." She huffed. Flynn smiled softly at that. She hadn't even thought to deny that she was his girl now. "Besides. This is absurd. Ooh. Close line. Come on." She unlatched a gate blocking an alleyway and ducked through quickly, pulling him with her before locking it behind her again. A cursory glance told them both that they were alone, the apartment that the close line belonged to currently sat empty. The windows open, the lights inside turned off. "Look. Whoever lives here looks like they might actually be your size." She said with a smirk. The last time they had traveled, the only clothes that had even remotely fit him, had still been too short, his wrists and ankles on display at all times. It had driven him mad. He looked adorable when he was irritated like that.

"Mhmm." He muttered before nodding to the skirts that were hung up. "Yours aught fit too." He said with a small smile. She looked at them.

"They'll be a tad small." She mused.

"Will they? Huh. That will be interesting." Flynn was fully grinning now. Some of the clothing on the line worked, but the casual men's wear would draw an eye if they had to get close to Reagan during an official appearance. Luckily, the apartment was empty, and the man who lived their had a closet full of appropriate options. Apparently however, his lady friend didn't actually live here. She only had one drawer, and the clothing options weren't exactly... varied. The skirt on the line was the only option for her in terms of "bottoms" and there were only two shirts. Lots of undergarments, however. So... so many undergarments. Well at least they were clean.

After they got dressed and stepped back outside into broad daylight, Lucy began to fully appreciate the reasoning behind his grin at the sizing. Flynn fit in as well as a man of his stature could fit in anywhere. Lucy... was wearing a too tight mini skirt and a too flamboyant top that drew the eye and showed off far too much of her skin for Lucy's comfort. She had taken a garter belt and stockings that almost reached the hem of the skirt, expecting them to cover her up a bit more, but the style... it was a tad more sexualized than she had thought. She looked rather like a photo she had seen once, of a girl in Berlin in this era, riding a bike, daring anyone to call her oppressed, just so she could tell them off. That helped. But the view of her skin peaking out between the stockings and her skirt pushed her back outside of her comfort zone.

"This is... possibly worse than being naked." Lucy commented, pulling at the skirt, trying to make it cover... more, unfortunately to no avail.

"Only one thing missing." Flynn returned. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to her hair. She nodded and he ran his fingers through her hair. He ruffled her locks until they slightly resembled the popular style for the time period. "Lucky we're not in America. The curls and big hair weren't quite as exaggerated over here in Germany."

"So... I'll fit in?"

"Lucy." He smiled. "You never fit in. You draw eyes no matter where, or when you go. But you won't stand out for being a woman out of her time, if that's what you mean." Lucy flushed. He always had that way about him. When he spoke, he had this genuine way about him. Even when he was being a flatterer, she seemed to have no choice but believe his words were authentic.

"Flynn... I..." She shook her head. Slowly, softly, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made such a big fuss earlier. I made it about me and Wyatt. That wasn't fair of me."

"Lucy." He breathed, pulling her close. "I have never had someone... care for me, the way you do. To stand up to your family like that..." He kissed her again. "I don't expect you to do that. You don't have to..."

"I think I'm falling in love with you Garcia Flynn." She blurted out, flushing. "I... That... that wasn't what I was planning on saying but... I mean it. I do. I think I'm falling in love with you."

"You... you..." His lips slammed against her and she sighed as he pulled one leg up to wrap around his waist, his other hand spanning her lower back, holding her steady, in place, right against him.

"This doesn't count." He told her as they quickly separated for air.

"Doesn't count? What, us making out?"

"No. You didn't actually say it yet. You just said you think you are going to be... you know."

"Is that a problem?" Lucy asked, gasping as his tongue traced her lower lip. "Because this doesn't feel like it's a problem right now."

"No. I'm just reminding you. You know, before you write anything. In your journal." His lips closed on a pulse point in her neck and Lucy moaned, actually moaned. Out loud. In a very public spot. Closed gate or not. "This isn't it. So don't mention it. Wait until you really, really know. Wait until you really, really say it."

"Why?"

"Because, draga moja," He nipped her skin. "It's my favorite story."

"The best one in the journal? Wow. I must really get into the telling of the sto- oh God." She breathed out as Flynn rolled his hips into her's.

"The best story on the planet." He countered.

"I want you." Lucy moaned, gripping the sleeves on his suit coat.

"Now, draga moja?" Flynn grinned. "Are you asking me to take you, right here, right now? Outside? In public? In 1987 Berlin?" She stuttered and he grinned, his fingers tracing the seam on the side of her stocking, tracing up, up, up until he reached the bare skin above. His large hands played with her skin drawing sound after sound out of her until she was all but panting.

"1987 Berlin. The start of the end. The Berlin Wall is about to fall, all because of a speech that is going to take place later today. And we are going to be there. After we save the course of human history." His fingers had reached beneath her skirt and now reached the edge of her panties. Yes. Her panties. Those at least she hadn't stolen from an unsuspecting German woman.

"Flynn," She breathed out as his fingers pressed hard against her center. "Don't..." She gasped, his fingers pushing her panties aside and entering her.

"You were saying?" He asked gruffly in her ear.

"Don't stop."

"That's what I thought." He pulled her right leg up around his hip and pushed his fingers deeper, his thumb pressing against her clit, rolling circles at an ever increasing tempo.

"Let go, Lucy."

"Garcia. Please." Lucy begged him. "I need you." She reached between them and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out.

"Lucy." He growled, his tongue darting up to lick his lips. Her name was like a prayer on his lips. He positioned himself at her entrance and she rolled her hips into him, taking his tip inside her.

"Please." She begged again, "Garcia."

"And if I don't? If I just don't move, stay here, frozen, keeping you on the edge-"

"Then I'll tell you I love you right here, right now. There goes your favorite story on the planet." He grinned at Lucy's hallow threat.

"You minx."

"Fuck me, Garcia." He pushed inside her and she sighed. Home. She clenched around him, her fingers holding onto his borrowed clothes - okay, stolen. It wasn't like they were going to return them - her hips moving back and forth in time with his. "Mmmm. Yes."

"Sranje." He swore. "Lucy."

"Fucking hell, Garcia. I'm so close."

"Already, draga moja?" He chuckled.

"Yes, you cocky Croatian time traveler." She snarled back. "It's been 2 minutes, and I'm on the edge. Which is good because we're in a stranger's yard. Outside. In 1987 Berlin."

"Did you just get a little wetter, draga moja? Which part of that turned you on the most? That this is a stranger's yard? Or that we're outside?" Lucy closed her eyes and buried her face into his chest. "Or is it the 1987 Berlin thing? Lucy's breath was coming out in short heavy pants. "Oh my God." She groaned. "Its the history thing. You're turned on by going back in time and being part of momentous historical moments, aren't you."

"Oh and you aren't?" She hissed back. He noticed her pupils were dilated and he smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

"Yes. I am incredibly turned on by being in this historical moment with you."

"Good." She smiled wryly, biting her lip. "I know we just paused for a conversation, but I'm still really close."

"Tell me what you need, Lucy."

"Kiss me, Garcia." He moved his chin forward and nipped at her lower lip before tracing it with her tongue. She moaned into him, as he grasped her so tightly, her left foot lifting off the ground as well. She wrapped herself around him, the angle changed, his cock slamming directly on that sensitive spot just in front of her cervix. "Oh my God!" She moaned out. "Garcia."

"We're about to go stop some very bad people, from ruining history. Ronald Reagan is about to demand the tearing down of the Berlin Wall. And we are going to witness it. First hand. And once we do, and we get back, you and I are going to christen the kitchen back at the bunker." Lucy shattered around him, clamping down on him, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. He pumped into her three more times before spilling inside her, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his hands holding her aloft, against him. They breathed deeply, just holding each other.

"I want to say it." Lucy breathed out.

"Not yet." He replied. "But I know, Lucy. Me too."

* * *

"Well fuck." Lucy swore as Garcia straightened his clothes.

"What is it, draga moja?"

"My own underwear. That's what I could keep. My panties."

"Yes?"

"They're a little... ruined." Garcia smirked.

"Oh are they?"

"I... I can't wear them!"

"The owner's girlfriend has some you could borrow."

"I'm not borrowing some random girl's panties!" She hissed at him.

"Well then," He leaned in and kissed her temple. "I guess you'll have to go commando."

"Garcia Flynn. Do you see how short this skirt is?" He smirked and nodded. "I cannot go commando in this skirt!"

"Then you'll have to borrow some panties." She groaned in frustration but Garcia just went on grinning like a maniac.

"Fine. Fine. Be happy. I'll go freaking commando." She snarled.

"I think that's-" A rattling near the gate cut in.

"Oh my God. They're home." Lucy gasped. Luckily, she was wrong, but it was enough to remind them where they were, and what they needed to do.

"Come on. We've got a sleeper agent to find." Garcia said, gesturing towards the exit.

"Lucy!" Rufus called out as the pair stepped through the gate back onto the street. He and Wyatt had found clothing as well and the four walked towards each other. "Reagan's flight is still scheduled to land as you said. He'll be here tomorrow." He said. "Everything seemed normal but Wyatt nearly ran down a reporter who was complaining to her friend. We noticed because it was in English. Some British girl, covering the president's visit tomorrow. One of their photos was forcibly removed from their possession and she was irritated that the German guards were so intent to harass any foreigners. Luckily, she still had the negatives on her. She didn't see anything wrong but..."

"A guard close to the Chancellor-"

"Helmut Kohl?" Lucy questioned. Rufus shrugged.

"I think so." He returned. "Anyway, he was adjusting his jacket. You could see his gun. Even in the negative, Wyatt could tell that that particular model wouldn't be invented for... oh I don't know, 20-30 years?" Lucy nodded.

"Nice catch."

"Anyway, we have a photo of our sleeper. Now we just need to find them, preferably before Reagan even lands in the country."

"Should be easy enough." Lucy shrugged. "You got a name?"

"No." Wyatt responded, clipped.

"Then we should track Chancellor Kohl. If he's a permanent guard, we'll find him close by."

"Worse comes to worse, we'll sneak into the Reichstag tomorrow." Flynn shrugged.

"Wasn't he working out of a hotel at the time? Cordoned off a whole floor as he prepped for the president's visit." Lucy recalled suddenly. Flynn nodded. "Do you know where it might be?"

"Yes." Flynn returned. "All the diplomats stayed there during this time period. We can pretend we are there on business." Flynn noticed Wyatt looking at Lucy's outfit in distinct disapproval at that comment.

"I'm not sure you'll fit in." Wyatt meant it as a warning, but Lucy could only remember Flynn's words from earlier and she smiled.

"Thanks."

"That... wasn't a compliment." He trailed off. "Whatever. We'll make up an excuse." Flynn walked up to a street vendor and asked directions in German for the hotel they were looking for and after a few gestures, and a quick back and forth between the two, he assured them he knew where he was going. He led them down the sidewalk, hurriedly towards their destination.

"Lucy, why are you walking like that?" Rufus asked suddenly, his brow raised. "You know your legs aren't attached above the knees, right?"

"Yes, actually, they are." She snapped. Garcia laughed quietly and Wyatt shot him a glare.

"Lucy had a small mishap with the very limited clothing options she had." Flynn explained diplomatically.

"Another word Garcia, and I will never step foot in the kitchen again."

"What?" Rufus asked. "What the hell kind of threat is that?"

"A damned good one." Flynn shot back. "My lips are now sealed. Permanently."

"All these empty promises." Wyatt muttered.

"Shut up, Wyatt." Rufus and Lucy said simultaneously.

"We're here." He replied gruffly, ignoring them, gesturing to the hotel. "Can we please get on with this?" They made their way inside and did their best to act natural. Looking around at her counterparts, Lucy decided that it really was quite shocking that they hadn't been caught before. None of them were really good at acting like they weren't up to something when they very clearly were, up to something. Then again, who was really suspecting the awkward weirdos who walked around in a group to be time travelers? Terrorists, maybe, but no one really suspected time travelers.

"Herr," A concierge murmured anxiously, hurrying up to Wyatt's side. "Herr, du kannst hier keine prostituierte haben!" He glanced nervously at Lucy.

"Um..." Wyatt began.

"Natürlich, der Herr." Flynn interjected, pulling Lucy to his side protectively. "Der hohe standard in diesem Haus ist der Grund, warum wir uns hier niedergelassen haben."

"Herr-" The concierge began again.

"Gepäck meiner Frau war unterwegs verloren." Lucy smiled, attempting to be convincing. She understood some German, enough to know how that this man definitely thought she was a prostitute and if Flynn didn't convince him otherwise she was going to be arrested and locked up with a bunch of other prostitutes in a pre-fall of the wall Germany. Not exactly an outcome she was thrilled about. The man still looked at her curiously. "Amerikanisch." Flynn said with a smirk.

"Glücklicher mann." The concierge muttered. Flynn's grin deepened.

"Wahrlich."

"Wie auch immer, mein Herr, wir haben eine gewisse-"

"Na sicher. Wir verstehen. Wenn wir einfach unsere Räume betreten können, sind wir außer Sichtweite." Flynn replied smoothly with a suggestive grin.

"Perfekt. Ich bin glücklich, Sie zu begleiten. Ihre Zimmernummer, herr? Flynn turned to Lucy and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Any ideas for room number?" He muttered to her.

"Third floor is cordoned off. Easier to sneak up or down?" She breathed out, fixing his tie.

"Vier Ein Drei, Ich glaube?" Flynn suggested.

"No!" Lucy immediately offered, trying to give them the air of someone who simply didn't remember it correctly, in case that particular room was taken. "Vier, zwei, ein." She spoke much more slowly, her words heavy with an American accent, as if she could barely understand and speak even less. It didn't take her much acting to portray that role. "Oh dear. Your secretary told me over the phone but I'm afraid I don't remember exactly, anymore."

"Allow me to check," The concierge replied to her slowly in her Native tongue. "Frau-" He waited for her to supply the name as they walked over to the front desk

"Frau Flynn, Herr. Danke. But I'm afraid it won't be under our names." She replied out as he ran his finger down the book. "My husband's work made the booking."

"Very good, Frau Flynn." He frowned. "Are you with the diplomatic group?" She could tell he was suddenly not believing their story.

"Oh! No! We aren't as high up as all that. Politics! Can you imagine, dear?" She asked, nestling into his arm. "Me. A politician's wife!"

"I'm quite happy you aren't a politician's wife, as well, Luce." He returned with a small grin.

"Aha! You must be with the Volkswagen supplier!" He lit up and his finger stopped on a reservation.

"Yes." They both said immediately.

"My husband is meeting with these gentlemen from Volkswagen this afternoon about the specifications he must follow due to the new rules here in Germany."

"I would hardly call the Wende 'new rules' darling."

"See! It is just as well you aren't a politician for how could I follow it all?" She asked with a blinding grin.

"Of course, mein Herr. Room 418. But I see here that the room is not booked until three days from now?" Flynn frowned, his head tilted down, and he gave the man a look Lucy would not love to be on the other side of.

"I'm afraid that's impossible, sir. The firm flew my wife and I out here specifically for this meeting. Which starts today. We were to be gone three days from now. Perhaps you have the dates confused?" The way he spoke, with such conviction, Lucy knew the concierge would believe what he said.

"Of course. Our mistake, sir. Unfortunately that particular room is currently occupied, but I am able to offer you room 412 for the same price. It has an additional living quarters you may be able to use for business sir."

"That sounds wonderful, dear!" Lucy fluttered. "My goodness, how lucky we are to have run into you. I'm so glad you came up to us!" She gushed, knowing damn well he had come up to them with the intent of kicking her out into the streets. The man flushed ever so slightly and his eyes darted to Flynn.

"Of course. Matthias will help you with your bags. Here is your key, and please call upon me with anything I can get you while you stay here. And again, my deepest apologies, mein Herr." Both Lucy and Flynn knew damn well he was apologizing far more for insinuating Flynn's wife was a prostitute than for the nonexistent mix up with the rooms.

"I understand, sir." Flynn said. And with that, they were led up to their room. Rufus and Wyatt stayed silent on the trip up, worried that their cover would be blown the moment someone asked them to speak. They were probably right, so it was for the best that no one spoke to them until the bell hop said good day and turned to leave the room. Instead of responding, they both just nodded and sunk down into the armchairs with twin looks of relief on their faces. Lucy, however, did not look relieved. She spun around and whacked Flynn on the arm soundly.

"Oh my God, I look like a prostitute?!" She gasped out.

"What?" Wyatt spat out.

"That man! He came up to you to tell you that you couldn't have a prostitute in his hotel! I look like a prostitute?"

"I mean kinda." Rufus shrugged. "I mean you wouldn't in the early 2000s but its 1980, Lucy. So... yeah, kinda." The look of horror on her face sent Flynn into a gale of laughter. Lucy buried her face in her hands.

"This is what you get for walking around in a mini skirt with no panties on, draga moja." Flynn teased her softly.

"OH MY GOD!" She wailed, running for the bedroom. "Someone lend me their pants!" She yelled out loudly. "I'm not leaving this room!" Rufus and Flynn laughed as she slammed the door behind herself but Wyatt just glared at Flynn.

"And how exactly do you know she isn't wearing..." He swallowed thickly.

"Panties?" Flynn provided the word for him. Wyatt nodded, his eyes flashing darkly. "What exactly were you doing while Rufus and I fought tooth and nail to get the information to find our sleeper?"

"KREUZBERG!" Lucy yelled as she ran back into the living space.

"Sorry?" Rufus asked, his eyebrows raised.

"The protest. The day before Reagan arrived. 50,000 people lining up in Kreuzberg to protest the arrival of the American president."

"Yes?" Flynn asked, prompting her on.

"I... I know the sleeper is our target and he's probably after Reagan but..."

"But what?"

"But then why not show up tomorrow to pick him up? After the assassination attempt, or whatever? Why show up today? What significant is happening today? Kreuzberg."

"And what do you think he's going to do there? It's not like it accomplished anything."

"Exactly. What if that's their plan? To make it accomplish something?"

"You mean-"

"What if Reagan isn't the target? If he hadn't made the speech... someone would have. England, probably. But eventually the wall would have come down. Chancellor Kohl on the other hand..."

"Turned the economy around at exactly the right time to make Germany a world player again in the future. Without him-"

"The economy goes bust, Germany is divided up into little bits. Either a struggling country, or property to other members of the EU. Lichtenstein rides again, so to speak."

"Lucy you're a genius. And on top of that?" He nodded his head at her appearance. "You look like exactly the sort of girl who would show up to a protest."

"Vive la commando." She returned with a shrug.

"Now that's a revolution I can get behind.

* * *

Translations:

"Sir," A concierge murmured anxiously, hurrying up to Wyatt's side. "Sir, You can't have a prostitute in here!" He glanced nervously at Lucy.

"Um..." Wyatt began.

"Of course, Sir." Flynn interjected, pulling Lucy to his side protectively. "The high standard of this establishment is why we have chosen to reside here."

"Sir-" The concierge began again.

"My wife's luggage was lost on the way.." Lucy smiled, attempting to be convincing. She understood some German, enough to know how that this man definitely thought she was a prostitute and if Flynn didn't convince him otherwise she was going to be arrested and locked up with a bunch of other prostitutes in a pre-fall of the wall Germany. Not exactly an outcome she was thrilled about. The man still looked at her curiously. "American." Flynn said with a smirk.

"Lucky man." The concierge muttered. Flynn's grin deepened.

"Indeed."

"Be that as it may, sir, we have a certain-

"Of course. We understand. If we can simply go to our rooms, we will be out of sight."

"Perfect. I am happy to escort you to your rooms. Your room number, sir?"


End file.
